


Breakfast at Tasha's

by bunnyspek



Series: Hawkeye & Widow's [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Multi, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyspek/pseuds/bunnyspek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has no idea what he was expecting when Tony sent him out to get his coffee from the shop across the street, but it certainly wasn't Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast at Tasha's

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift for natashasbanner on tumblr for the hulkwidow exchange. Hope you enjoy it!

“But if we redirect the internal thrust from in here-”

“Then it will still fail,” Bruce said, watching impassively as the model exploded in flames on the computer screen in front of them. Tony let out a soft whine and flopped over the lab table.

“This is hopeless,” he moaned.

“It's not hopeless,” Bruce said tiredly. “It's just... being difficult.”

It really was a brilliant idea – a self-sustaining miniaturized power source that could be used in any number of appliances, paving the way for a larger model that _might_ , as Bruce was prone to emphasize and Tony was prone to ignore, help solve the energy crisis. There was just one small problem. It kept exploding. After their third prototype had set fire to one of Jane's flannels, they had decided to use computer models instead, with just as little success.

“I need coffee,” Tony moaned.

“We don't have any coffee,” Bruce said, replaying the model and taking notes. He had to reach one arm awkwardly over Tony's prone form to get to the mouse.

“I neeeed it, Bruce,” Tony said.

“No, you need to fix this engine.”

Tony sat up suddenly, knocking Bruce's arm and causing him to drop his notes. “So you go get it.”

“Go get what?” Bruce said, bending to scoop up the papers.

“Coffee.”

Bruce glared levelly at Tony. “No.”

“Pleeeease?”

“I'm not getting you coffee.”

“It's my part that's busted, let me stay here and I promise I'll work on fixing it while you go get coffee.”

Bruce sighed. “Where am I even supposed to get coffee?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “It's New York. Where are you not going to get coffee?” He fumbled his pocket for his wallet. “Right across the street. It's called Hawkeye and Widow's. Get me a large Columbian roast quad with chocolate whipped cream.”

“A what?” Bruce said bewilderedly, taking the money Tony was shoving in his hands.

“You know what? Just tell the barista its for Tony. Should be a smoking hot red-headed Russian. Or a scruffy blonde dude with hearing aids.”

“And if it's not?”

“Large columbian roast quad with chocolate whipped cream. You can do it, Bruce. You're working on your third degree here. It's not rocket science.”

“Rocket science might be easier,” Bruce said, realizing too late that Tony was pushing him out of the lab.

“Hawkeye and Widow's,” Tony said again, shutting the glass doors in his face. “Not that hard.”

“Finish the damn model,” Bruce sighed, stuffing the bills Tony had handed him into his pocket.

 

Hawkeye & Widow's was, in fact, right across the street, wedged between a print shop and a karate studio. The sign over the door showed a black widow spider and a hawk clinking coffee mugs over the name written out in large purple and black letters. The color scheme continued inside, where a short line of people waited alongside bookshelves that lined the path to the counter. A sign on one shelf bore a doodle of a superhero with the legend “KNOWLEDGE IS POWER: Take a Book, Leave a Book.” Small round tables with targets painted on the top clustered near the front of the store. A large red couch was pushed up against the wall in the back, and a circle of armchairs and loveseats was arranged around it. The side of the counter was lined with diner-esque stools. The front consisted of a register and display case for mouth watering baked goods. There were exquisitely frosted cupcakes and cookies and fresh, warm looking scones. Most of the customers sat near the front, laptops open as they sipped coffee from giant mugs with more cutesy cartoons painted on them. Natasha watched them proudly from behind the cash register, the smell of Steve's latest treat wafting out from the kitchen in the back.

“Ow – jesus _christ-”_

“What did you do now?” Natasha said impassively, not even looking up from making change for the woman in front of her.

“Nothing,” Clint said, sounding pained. Natasha passed over the money with a smile and turned to face her business partner, best friend, and personal walking disaster with a glare.

“I burned my hand on the coffee pot,” Clint said reluctantly, shaking his already red hand.

“We've owned a coffee shop for three years and you still can't remember that it's hot?” she said skeptically.

“Some people never learn,” he said, sucking on the burn.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Natasha said tiredly.

“I'm fine,” Clint said. “Go help the guy who's staring up at the board like it's holding a gun on him.”

“Have Steve put some butter on those burns,” Nat said, turning back to the customers.

Clint wasn't lying. The man behind the register looked completely lost. Natasha slid a cool, professional smile onto her face.

“Can I help you?”

He started slightly, meeting her eyes nervously. “Yes. Um-”

“First time in a coffee shop?” Natasha said dryly.

“That obvious?” he said with a shy smile. “I don't really know what – well, what any of this means.”

“Not a coffee drinker?”

“Not so much, no.” He was cute, Natasha was pleased to note. Soft brown curls, not quite handsome in the way Steve or Thor was, but a distinctly interesting face, with warmth behind the eyes. Natasha's business smile faded into a more natural smirk. “My friend Tony actually sent me,” the man continued.

The name rang a bell. An  _alarm_ bell. “Tony  _Stark_ ?” Natasha said, surprised. 

“You know him?”

“He shows up here every day, cuts the line, orders an outrageously complicated order, and then tips me twenty bucks.” He was also, though Natasha would never admit it, one of her favorite customers. Natasha liked clever people, and Tony was definitely that. He was also a complete pain in the ass. Tony, with his loud, in-your-face narcissism, seemed like the complete opposite of this man and his shy, unassuming, and slightly embarrassed air. Natasha wondered how they knew each other.

“Sounds like Tony,” the man said. “So do you know that outrageously complicated order, by chance?”

“I do,” she said, scribbling on a to-go cup. “So how do you know Tony Stark?”

“We're – lab partners, I guess? We went to school together.”

“Huh,” she said. “I wouldn't have pegged you as his type.”

He smiled slightly. “I wouldn't have either, at first. But he's a good guy, under all the flash. The best, actually.” He started slightly, remembering where he was. “Don't tell him I said that?”

Natasha chuckled softly. “I won't. Can I get you anything?”

“Um. Do you have tea?”

“Yes we do. Want anything in particular?”

He shrugged. “I honestly have no idea.”

She laughed again. “How about I surprise you?”

He smiled. It was a nice smile, warm and somehow already familiar. “That sounds great.”

She smiled back. “You can sit by the counter, I'll bring your stuff over.”

She turned to the coffee machines to find Steve standing behind her, a large mixing bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. “Who was that?” he said, sounding shocked. Natasha glared at him.

“A customer. What do you mean, who was that?”

“He's cute.”

Natasha glared at him. “Don't you start with me, Rogers.”

“What?” Steve said. “All you ever do is try to set me up. I can't repay the favor?”

“Well, unlike you, I don't exactly need any help.”

Steve stared at her with disbelief. “What?” she snapped.

“Natasha. The last person you were in a serious relationship with? Was _Clint._ ”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “That's not exactly fair.”

Steve shrugged. “I'm just saying.” He held up a spoonful of the batter in his bowl. “Does this taste like it's missing something?”

Natasha licked the spoon. “It's good.” She dipped a finger into the bowl and Steve smacked her hand away. “I don't know.”

“Maybe some cinnamon or something. You should ask that guy out.”

“I'll ask him out when you ask out Sharon.”

“Will you drop that?” Steve said exasperatedly. “She's Peggy's cousin.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha said, plating a scone and heading for the counter. “Here,” she said, sliding the scone and a cup of tea over to Tony's friend. “On the house.”

“Oh- I can't -”

“Relax, I can afford it,” she said. “I own the place.”

“Oh?” he said. “So which one are you, Hawkeye or Widow?”

“Widow,” she said with a smirk. “Hawkeye is...” she looked around for Clint and found him, to her slight surprise, working the cash register. “Over there.”

“Why Hawkeye and Widow?” he asked.

“Names left over from our time in the circus.”

He choked slightly on his tea. “Really?”

“Yeah, that's how we met. He's a sharpshooter. I did the aerial silks. The acrobatics with the ribbons.”

“Wow,” he said. He took a bite of the scone. “ _Wow._ This is amazing.”

She smirked. “My friend makes them. He's the best in the business.”

“I'll say.” He took another sip of the tea. “I can see why Tony likes this place.”

“We're very good at what we do,” she said smugly.

“Nat,” Clint called. “I need a cinnamon apple latte.”

Natasha pushed back from the counter slightly reluctantly. “Tell Tony I said hi,” she said.

“I will,” he said, raising the to-go cup in a sort of salute. “Thanks for the scone.”

She watched him go intently, studying the way he moved through the shop, somehow anxious and absent at the same time. Something warm and protective usually reserved for Clint or Steve stirred in her chest. He seemed different than the usual caffeine fiends who frequented her shop. She noted, with some mild surprise, that she hoped he would come back.

“Nat,” Clint called from the register, slightly exasperated. “Coffee.”

 

“Okay,” Tony said, rubbing his face exhaustedly. “Let's try this.”

Bruce cautiously steered the mouse over towards the play button. They watched breathlessly as the model came to life, plugging through the scenario – and burst into flames.

Tony began to bang his head against the computer screen.

“We're getting closer,” Bruce said weakly. “It shouldn't take too long to isolate-”

Tony groaned.

“Tell you what,” Bruce said. “Let's go get some coffee.”

Tony snapped his head up from the screen. “Yes!” he said. “Wait. You don't drink coffee.”

“Well, I don't have to get coffee -”

Tony grinned. “She's cute, right?”

Bruce sighed heavily, pushing his chair backwards. “Tony-”

“You can't fool me, Bruce, I'm your best friend. I know you.”

Bruce glared at him. Tony met his gaze evenly, a gleeful smirk on his face.

“Cute is not the word I'd use,” Bruce relented.

“You're right, actually,” Tony said. “I'd go with more... goddess-like. Terrifyingly gorgeous.” He slid his chair into Bruce's, sending Bruce spinning. “You should go for it.”

“She's a bit out of my league,” Bruce said, planting his feet and stopping his chair.

“Leagues are just a matter of perspective,” Tony said sagely. “I mean, come on. One of my dad's friends said that I was slumming it with Pepper, and we both know that the exact opposite is true.”

“Oh, Tony-”

“Yes, yes, the guy's an asshole, okay, the point is, ask out the coffee-shop girl.”

“Tony.”

“Come on! You've got that whole adorably-mad-scientist thing going for you. It's very hot.”

“ _Tony._ ”

“It is. I'm very attracted to you. Talk science to me, baby.”

“Do you want some coffee or not?” Bruce said, laughing.

“I really want some coffee.” Tony sprang up out of his chair. “Let's go.”

 

“Guess who's lives just got better?” Tony cried, throwing open the door to Hawkeye & Widow's with a bang. “It's all of yours. Because now I'm here.”

He strutted into the coffee-shop, which was mercifully without a line. Bruce covered his face with his hands and trailed behind him.

“Natasha, my darling,” Tony said dramatically. Widow – or Natasha, Bruce guessed – just glared.

“My favorite problem customer,” she deadpanned. “What are we having today?”

“I'll take the usual, and whatever he's having.” Tony gestured towards Bruce. Natasha followed his arm to see Bruce and her unimpressed glare softened, eyes lighting up and a pleased smirk tilting the corners of her mouth.

“Hey,” she said. “You came back.”

“I did,” Bruce said, stepping forward almost unconsciously. “Like you said. You're good at what you do.”

“The best,” she said seriously. “You want the same as last time, or another surprise?”

“Surprise is good,” he said. “And a scone, please?”

“You got it,” she said, grabbing a marker. “What's the name?”

“Bruce,” he said.

She smiled. “Bruce. I like that.” She stepped back from the register. “Coming right up.”

“My drink too, right?” Tony called after her. He turned to Bruce and flashed him two thumbs up. Bruce rolled his eyes.

Without the distraction of Natasha, he took in the surroundings a bit more. Hawkeye was there again, making drinks and chatting with another barista, this one a giant blonde man who seemed to take up half the space behind the counter. His long hair was pulled back from his handsome face into a bun. Bruce wondered weakly if everyone who worked here was inhumanly good-looking.

Tony dragged Bruce over to the counter again and sat him down. Bruce's gaze drifted past the men and back over to Natasha, watching the other two out of the corner of her eye with affectionate amusement.

“Bruce!” Tony said, snapping loudly in front of his face. Bruce started and stared over at his friend.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Jesus christ,” he proclaimed. “You are so  _smitten_ .”

 

It took only a few weeks for stopping into Hawkeye & Widow's to feel like routine. Bruce quickly realized that it wasn't just the delicious drinks and exceptional pastries that kept people coming back. The whole staff had a cheerful, familial air, helped by the fact that half of them seemed to live right above the shop in Clint and Natasha's apartment. In addition to Hawkeye (really named Clint) and Widow (Natasha), there was Thor, the giant blonde who became smitten with Jane from the moment he and Tony brought her into the shop, Steve, the pastry chef and resident artist who had far too excellent a physique for either of those professions, and a pair of teenage twins, Wanda and Pietro, who seemed to communicate psychically and spent most of their time glaring at people. Bruce also met Kate, Clint's little sister whom Clint seemed determined to keep as far away from Pietro as possible, and Wanda's boyfriend whom everyone just called Vision, leaving Bruce unsure as to what his real name actually was. They also had a ready loyalty to those they considered steady customers. Bruce wasn't surprised to find that Tony was on a first name basis with them all – Tony made friends easily, keeping them was his only issue – but he was pleased to note how quickly they seemed to accept Bruce into their little clan, cheerfully brewing some tea before he even reached the register, greeting him by name, catching him up on gossip. Bruce liked them all, but he couldn't help feeling a slight tinge of disappointment whenever he came in and saw someone other than Natasha behind the counter, waiting for him with a wry smirk and a steaming cup of tea.

Fortunately, when Bruce, Tony, and Jane came in later than usual one night, she was still there, smacking Clint with a towel behind the counter.

“I can't believe you!”

“Ow! She slept with me, too! Why aren't you hitting her?” Clint cried, throwing his hands up defensively and retreating to the other side of the counter. He saw Bruce and Tony and ran behind them, cowering. “Protect me,” he said, grabbing Bruce's shoulders and steering him forward.

“Oh, no, I am not a part of this,” Bruce said, laughing. Natasha glared at Clint.

“Human shields? Really?” she said.

“You're not gonna hurt Bruce and we both know it,” Clint said.

“Bruce isn't going to be here forever,” she said, terrifyingly sweet.

“Yeah, but he can cover me breaking for the door.”

“Your shift's not over. You're not going anywhere.”

Clint whimpered. “Save me,” he whispered to Bruce.

“Sorry,” Bruce said.

Clint dropped Bruce and ran behind Jane. “You can't hurt her, either!” he called triumphantly. “Thor would kill you.”

“You can't hide forever, Barton,” she said menacingly. Then she turned to Bruce. “Hi,” she said cheerfully.

“What did he do?” Bruce said.

“He slept with my roommate,” she said, glaring at Barton again. “The usual?”

“Yes please,” Bruce said. “I thought he was your roommate.”

“My college roommate. Laura.” Clint had warily returned behind the counter and was making Tony and Jane's drinks. Natasha dropped her voice to a low murmur. “I'm actually thrilled about the whole thing, but if I let Clint know that he'll get freaked out and screw it up.”

“Oh really?” Bruce said, an amused grin lighting up his face.

“They're perfect for each other. I've been carefully orchestrating this for years.”

“That's nice of you.”

“I'm a very nice person,” she said with a smile. “Thor is actually bringing her over here in a few minutes, we were all going to go grab a drink while the twins tended shop.”

“Oh,” Bruce said, slightly disappointed.

“You guys should come,” she said.

“Oh – We wouldn't want to -”

“We'd love to,” Tony said loudly. Bruce started at the sound of his voice. He had completely forgotten about his friend while talking to Natasha.

“We wouldn't want to intrude,” Bruce said pointedly, more to Tony than Natasha.

“Please,” Natasha said, waving a hand. “It'll give Thor an excuse to go out with Jane, which more importantly might make him shut up about how much he's been dying to go out with her.”

“You're sure?” Bruce said.

“Yeah,” she said enthusiastically. “You can help me make sure Clint doesn't mess things up with Laura.”

Bruce laughed. “I'm not exactly the carefully orchestrated matchmaking type.”

“Then you can bring me drinks while I matchmake.” She had a wicked and completely irresistible smirk on her face.

“Okay,” Bruce said. “Sounds good.”

 

“We” turned out to be a lot more than just Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Laura. Bruce, Tony, and Jane came too, of course, but there was also Steve and his friend Bucky, and Pepper met them there, and so did Steve and Natasha's friend Sam with Steve's ex-girlfriend Peggy.

“This is a lot of people,” Bruce murmured.

Natasha gazed around the bar, eyes affectionate as they lighted upon her friends. “I like it,” she said. “It feels like a big family reunion.”

“No family reunion I've ever been to,” he said. “Everyone here likes each other too much.”

She nodded, conceding the point. “What is your family?” she said. “Siblings? Parents?”

“No siblings,” he said. “No anything, really. My mom and dad passed a while ago – no, it's fine. I was young.” He shrugged. “I have a cousin, Jennifer, who's a lawyer. She's about the only one I've kept in touch with.” He looked over at her. “How about you?”

She shrugged. “Just what you see here.” She smiled sadly. “You'll fit right in. We're all orphans here.”

She sat up slightly, dropping the heaviness of the moment to watch Clint and Laura across the bar. She winked at Laura and flashed her a thumbs up while Clint had his back turned to her. When he looked back over at them she dragged her finger across her throat menacingly.

She sat back in her chair. “Those two are going to get married,” she said cheerfully.

“Do you do this with all your friends?” Bruce said.

“Of course,” she said. “You've met them all. Do you really think they could manage on their own?”

Bruce smiled at the various couples arranged across the bar. Tony and Pepper were sharing a booth with Thor and Jane. Steve was laughing into Bucky's shoulder as Sam and Peggy interrupted each other's versions of some story. Clint and Laura sat across from Bruce and Nat at the bar, deep in some affectionate conversation. “They seem to be doing alright.”

“They're good people,” Natasha said, watching them as well. “They deserve to be happy.”

Bruce looked over at her. The dim lights were dancing on her red curls and setting her eyes sparkling. “What about you?” he said.

She looked back over at him, a soft smile lighting her face. “I'm happy right where I am.”

 

Steve agreed to take Bruce and Natasha home a little too excitedly for Natasha's taste.

“Take us to our  _separate_ homes, Steve,” she said pointedly. 

“Uh-huh,” Steve said.

“I'm serious.”

“I know.”

“Stop that.”

Steve raised his hands defensively. “Stop what? What did I say?”

Natasha rolled her eyes pointedly.

“C'mon, Nat,” Steve said. “You have to admit, its not that subtle.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she said airly.

“Please. Every time he comes in you abandon the rest of us to lean over the counter and smirk at him,” Steve said. He patted her on the back sympathetically. “You really like him, huh?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Steve shrugged. “It's just – I've seen you flirt before. We all know there's a reason you get the most tips.”

“Hey,” Natasha said, mock offended.

“But I've never seen you take this long to make a move,” he continued. “Which makes me think you're in it for the long haul.”

“Maybe,” she said quietly, considering what he'd said.

“My only advice?” Steve said. “He's not gonna make the first move.” He knocked her lightly on the shoulder. “Make it obvious, too.”

“Uh-huh,” she said dryly. “You asked Sharon out yet?”

“Where on earth did you get this Sharon thing stuck in your head?” he laughed.

“Okay, how about Sam?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'm gonna go peel Buck off the seat and then we'll go,” he said.

“Sounds good,” she said, heading back over to where Bruce sat laughing with Tony and Pepper. “Steve's gonna take us home,” she told him.

“That's nice,” Bruce said, smiling up at her. He stood. “Should we met them outside?”

The temperature had dropped dramatically since she'd left the coffee shop and she shivered as they stepped outside. Bruce pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her before she could say anything.

“Thanks,” she said, a little startled by the gesture.

Steve pulled up in Bucky's beat up jeep, Bucky already in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Steve called. “You don't mind if we drop you both off at the coffee shop, right?”

Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but Bruce was already speaking.

“It's fine, thanks,” he said.

Natasha glared at them. Bucky winked.

They clamored into the backseat, closer quarters than Natasha had anticipated. She and Bruce were pressed together from their knees to shoulders. He was nicely warm. Natasha felt herself relaxing into him and pulled herself back up slightly.

_What are you doing?_ she asked herself irritably.

Bucky and Steve kept up a steady stream of banter the whole drive back to Hawkeye & Widow's, cheerful, old-married-couple style bickering that Natasha was pleased to find Bruce wittily interjecting into several times. He really was cute, she reflected, watching his profile in the dim light of the streetlamps and signs that floated past the window. Cute, funny, and intelligent. And he smelled nice, too.

“End of the line,” Bucky announced cheerfully as Steve pulled up to the curb. Natasha leaned forward to kiss both men on the cheeks before joining Bruce out on the sidewalk.

“Thanks,” Bruce called, waving as they pulled away.

“Are you far from home?” Natasha asked. Bruce shook his head.

“Just one subway stop away,” he said.

“Can I walk you to the train?”

He smiled slightly. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

She slid her arm through his. “I know. But isn't it nicer to have me to take care of you?”

He grinned earnestly. “But if you walk me down, who's gonna walk you back?”

“I really can take care of myself,” she said with a smirk.

He laughed. “That I believe.”

They walked down the street, chatting about this and that. Bruce began to explain what he and Tony were working on and his whole face lit up, arms moving through the air as he tried to explain the science behind it.

“Sounds brilliant,” she said.

He shrugged. “It will be. If we can stop it from exploding.”

Natasha chuckled softly.

“Thanks,” Bruce said suddenly. Natasha slowed to look up at him.

“What for?”

“Listening. Most people just sort of... tune it out, you know?”

“That's because most people aren't as smart as we are,” Natasha said.

He laughed. “I guess not. Still. It's nice to explain it to someone who cares.”

They had reached the subway tunnel. Natasha hopped over the turnstile and looked back to find Bruce gaping at her. 

“I could have swiped you in,” he said weakly, holding up his metro card.

She shrugged. “Not like I'm riding the train.”

“If you get arrested, I've never met you before,” he said, swiping his card and pushing through the turnstile.

She smiled, stepping in closer to him without thinking, and suddenly everything felt somehow different. With just a few steps, all the easy conversation of a moment ago seemed suddenly gone, and she found herself suddenly electrified by his gaze, almost painfully aware of the few inches between them. His eyes were locked on her lips, and her heart beat faster at the sudden knowledge that he wanted to kiss her. She found, even more startlingly, that she wanted to kiss him.

“Bruce,” she murmured, stepping forward slightly.

He swallowed nervously. “Yeah?” he rasped.

The train roared into the station, shattering the silence into a thousand pieces and causing them both to jump backwards.

“Bye,” she said awkwardly, the station now jarringly bright and loud. He nodded, backing onto the train.

“Yeah,” he said, standing in the train as the doors began to slide closed. “See you tomorrow.”

The train rushed back out of the station in a blur and Natasha was left alone on the platform. She looked around dazedly, suddenly and soberingly aware of what had almost just happened.

“Shit,” she said.

 

Clint came in ten minutes late to his shift, which made Natasha go from feeling slightly guilty to not guilty at all about arranging the Maximoffs and Steve to bear witness to his walk of shame.

“Okay! Alright!” he yelled, cutting off the positive cacophony of wolf-whistles and cat-calls. He threw his coat down behind the counter and glared at Natasha. “You are evil,” he said.

“Go change into some clean clothes,” she said, smirking. Clint brushed past her with a heavy sigh and middle fingers for Wanda, Steve, and Pietro. She heard him stomping around in their apartment and chuckled softly.

“So,” Steve said, sidling up next to her as he prepared a latte. “How was your night?”

She rolled her eyes. “Uneventful.”

Steve pouted slightly. “Really?”

Natasha bit her lip and looked around. Wanda was over by the register. Pietro was carrying drinks to customers' tables. She sighed heavily and looked up at Steve. “I think you may have been right.”

Steve's face lit up like a christmas tree. “Tell me everything.”

She looked down at her cup, pointedly avoiding his eye. “I walked him down to the train station and we almost kissed.”

Steve let out a strangled yelp. Natasha picked up a fork and brandished it at him menacingly.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I'm just – really?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Okay, okay.” He beamed at her. “Natasha. This is great.”

“Yeah, except for the part where _nothing actually happened._ ”

Steve chuckled softly. “Natasha. That man has been over the moon for you since he first walked in here. If you want something to happen? Make it.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “You know what, Rogers? You may be right.”

Steve sighed heavily. “You know, I usually am. None of you listen to me.”

“Whatever you say, grandpa.”

“You know what, Romanoff-”

 

The lab looked as if a bomb made entirely of papers and coffee cups had exploded inside of it. Bruce sat by the computer, replaying old models again and again. Tony was half-buried under a pile of notebooks, somehow managing to drink his coffee horizontally.

“What if we used a different material?” Tony said, not stirring from his prone position, lapping at his coffee like a dog.

“We've tried every material the computer said wouldn't melt plus a few it said would.”

Tony huffed. “Well, what if we went back to model number-” he shuffled through the papers covering him until he found the right one. “Forty-five? Forty-five didn't explode.”

“Forty-five didn't do anything,” Bruce said. “It just sat there.”

Bruce pushed back his chair, dropping his glasses on the table and rubbing his eyes. He was tired. He hadn't slept much. The memory of _why_ he hadn't slept floated back to him in an absent sort of way, and he leaned back, living in the moment just before the train had arrived, when Natasha had been standing so close to him, and he could feel his whole body sparking with the energy-

_Sparks._

“Tony,” he said, slowly. “What if we got rid of the oxygen?”

“What do you mean?” Tony said, sitting up slightly.

“I mean, make it so that there's no air to let anything catch fire within the battery itself?”

“Could the electricity still travel through it?”

“If you gave it a wire.”

“Didn't we already try using a wire? The wire caught fire,” Tony said.

“But if there's no oxygen-”

“Then it can't catch fire!” Tony finished. “We build it in a vacuum!”

“Can we?” Bruce said.

“Hell yes!” Tony cried, scribbling on a piece of paper. “The radiation can still pass through it, and so can the electricity, but the metal bits can't explode!” He tossed Bruce the piece of paper. “Plug that in.”

Bruce typed Tony's scribbles into the computer with trembling fingers. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I'll ever be,” Tony said, standing at Bruce's shoulder.

On screen, the model shook slightly, made a strange humming sound, and then began to glow.

“We did it,” Bruce breathed.

“Yes!” Tony screamed, punching the air. “We did it! Thank god. I have to call Pepper- Where are you going?”

“I need a cup of coffee,” Bruce said cheerfully, pulling on his coat.

“A cup of _coffee_? Bruce, it's nine o'clock at night. What's the matter with you?”

“I'm fine,” Bruce said, almost out the door to the lab. He threw two triumphant thumbs up into the air. “We did it!”

 

A light drizzle, more like a mist, had descended upon the street, softening the glow of the neon signs and streetlamps. Bruce hurried across the street with his hood over his head, unable to avoid a slight dew clinging to him and his hair. Through the window he could see Natasha wiping down a table, hips gently swaying to some music he couldn't hear from outside.

He knocked on the window.

She looked up. She didn't seem startled by his sudden appearance – but then, little ever startled her. An amused grin spread across her face as she moved to the door. Bruce could hear the locks clicking. She opened the door.

“We did it,” Bruce said. “It worked, we did it, we made a self-sustaining battery!”

“Congratulations,” she said. “I knew you would.”

“I just had to tell you,” he said, stepping inside. He shook his head slightly to get rid of some of the water.

“I'm glad you did,” she said. “Tea?”

“Please,” he said, taking a seat with a small smile. “It was a vacuum. That was what we needed.”

She nodded slowly. “To stop it from catching on fire?”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “I just can't believe it.”

“I can,” she said. “You're a super genius. That's what you do.” She handed him his tea and sat down next to him. “It's on the house, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a deep sip. He looked over at her. She had the strangest look on her face, some combination of exasperation and affection and maybe even something else, something deeper. “What?” he said.

“What's it gonna take to get you to kiss me?” she asked.

Bruce choked slightly.

Her grin widened. She slid off the stool, slinking closer to where he sat. “C'mon, Doc,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” he breathed, eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

“Well,” she drawled, leaning in closer. “I was told I was going to have to make it obvious for you, so -” she shrugged. “Here I am. Making it pretty darn obvious.” Her lips quirked up into a smirk. “Do you need a demonstration?”

“I think I might,” he murmured, and with one final smirk she leaned in and kissed him.

It was perfect. Both their bodies thrilled with the touch, turning their stomachs into sparklers and filling their veins with electricity.

“Damn,” Natasha murmured as they broke apart. “Now that? That was worth the wait.”

“Happy to oblige,” Bruce murmured as he pulled her back in for a deeper kiss.

There was the sound of a loud knocking on the door and they both looked up. Tony was standing outside, mouth a perfect “o” shape, eyes wide as dinner plates. His hand moved towards the doorknob, but Natasha beat him to it.

“We're closed,” she called smugly, locking the door with a final-sounding click. “Come back tomorrow morning.”

She turned back to Bruce with a smirk. “Remember where we left off?”

He pulled her back into his arms. “Vividly.”

 

_Epilogue_

_3 Years Later_

“Morning,” Natasha called. “Place your order now, cause I'm heading downstairs.”

Bruce blinked up at her sleepily. “English breakfast and a blackberry scone to go, please.”

“To go, huh?” she said, bending down to the bed to kiss him. “I might have to charge you extra for the inconvenience.”

Bruce sighed dramatically. “I'll pay the price, I suppose.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and she swatted gently at them.

“I have to go to work,” she said.

“Or you could just stay here. In bed. With me. All day.”

She laid a hand on his cheek. “Tempting,” she mused. “But that means Clint's all alone downstairs-”

“And that means the whole building would catch fire,” Bruce said. “Go save the world. I'll be waiting for you up here when you're done.”

“That's what I like to hear,” she said, kissing him one last time. “English breakfast and a blackberry scone to go. Don't forget pants this time.”

Bruce colored at the memory. “Trust me,” he called. “I learned my lesson.”

He listened until he heard her footsteps downstairs before getting up and shuffling over to his dresser. The ring in his sock drawer winked up at him as he got dressed.

“Not today,” he said to it cheerfully. Then he paused, considering. “Maybe soon, though.”

It was looking to be another beautiful morning.

 


End file.
